Hidden
by thehopefulone
Summary: Rosaline has more secrets than she can handle.


Authors' note:

This is written in modern-ish Romeo and Juliet world, so please note that it is not in it's historical time.

Also, I am aware that in the book, Rosaline is Lord Capulet's niece, but for purposes of this story they are unrelated.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Rosaline & Lord Capulet

* * *

Maybe this time she'll actually do it.

Take the pills. Not show up when she's supposed to go meet him. Die before anyone even notices her absence.

But she knows she won't- at least, not tonight.

When she's certain that everyone in her house is asleep, she rises from her bed and wraps a shawl around her shoulders. Then, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboard, she leaves her home behind and makes her way through the darkness outside.

He meets her just outside the gardens, his shadow unseen to anyone not expecting him.

"Darling," he greets her, his lips meeting hers softly.

She kisses him back, not wanting to say anything. After all, she knows how wrong this is. He's older than her, he's married, and yet- here he is now.

They walk silently to their place, a little cove hidden in the park. She's so in love with him- so why does his touch make her feel so numb?

His hands roam, her blue-and-gold dress falling away from her body as easily as one would toss away an empty to-go cup.

Once upon a time, these scandalous midnight acts thrilled her. She would have greeted him with an invigorated passion, and leave him breathless.

But she can't keep doing this: loving a man that can never love her back, hiding from the scorn of society, pretending she's fine when she's not.

"Rose," her name fervidly leaves his moaning lips, and she snaps back to reality. Where she is. What is happening.

Does it even matter?

No, she tells herself as he begins to climax inside of her and she still feels nothing. It doesn't matter. She doesn't matter.

His arms thread around her, spooning her, and she tries to remember what this once was. But the excitement of the forbidden love affair has long since worn off. Now she's left with a heavy dose of heartache and depression from wanting something she can never really have.

If this were to be their last meeting, he could go back home to his charming wife and perfect daughter and all would be good for him.

And she would be left alone, going back to nothing.

They walk through the park and up the dark streets together, their fingers he kisses her goodnight, she doesn't kiss him back. And he's too busy being spooked by a headlight in the distance to worry about it, so he runs off without so much as a "Goodnight." Rosaline only sighs and opens the gate, striding back towards her house.

"My flower," her nurse greets her when she enters the kitchen. "How did it go?"

She's stunned by the question until she remembers that everyone thinks she had been singing at a club tonight.

"It went well. Have a bit of a scratchy throat though, think I'm coming down with something. Do we have any cold medicine?"

The old woman opens the cabinet and sets a box of NyQuil on the counter before smoothing back Rosaline's hair and gently kissing her forehead.

"Don't stay up too late now," she instructs, and Rosaline smiles.

"I won't."

As the nurse leaves, Rosaline fills a cup with water from the tap and tucks the box of pills into her skirt. Then she climbs the stairs to her room, and shuts the door.

Breathe.

In. Out.

"I'll be okay," She tells herself as she stares at her tear-soaked complexion in the mirror.

But she''s not okay. Because she knows how this is going to look to society. How she'll be rejected by the entire town for being a whore. How she'll be stripped of her respect, career, money.

But she can't think about that right now.

She's singing at his party tonight, and no one will even think twice when he escorts her home, because that's what polite gentlemen and responsible employers do. But while she's onstage he won't even look at her, he won't know the secret that she's carrying inside her.

The extra weight is still barely noticeable, but she feels huge as she slips her red and black gown over her head. Then she dabs a little extra coverup on her pale face and steps out to the stage, where the party is already filling with people.

 _When you were here before  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel  
Your skin makes me cry_

Her eyes automatically scan for him in the crowd, a reflex that she can't let go of. She finds him, his arms wrapped around his wife, leaning in to whisper words in her ear.

 _You float like a feather  
In a beautiful world  
And I wish I was special  
You're so fuckin' special_

The words start to sink into her mind. She loves him. She wants to be with him.

But that can't happen.

 _But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here._

She swallows her words and takes a break, her heels clicking as she steps off the stage and walks away.

She had just pushed the door open to go outside when she hears his voice calling after her.

"Rose!" He yells, and she turns towards him, tears filling her eyes.

"No!" She yells, holding out her arm to keep him away. "No! Don't touch me!" She walks backwards until she nearly runs into a rose bush, the flowers blooming in the perfectly-tended garden. How ironic.

"Rose, what's going on? Talk to me, darling."

"I can't," she says, tears running down her cheeks unceasingly. "You should go back to your party."

He sits down on a bench, and waits until she uneasily settles herself on the opposite end.

"Whatever it is, I can help you." He wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.

She slowly looks up, apprehensively meeting his blue eyes with her own.

"I'm pregnant." She whispers, and a shocked expression fills his face.

"Are you sure?" Is the first response he can muster up.

"Yes." She says, standing to leave. Then she hesitates, turning back to look at him. "I don't expect you to do anything for me."

He stands, wrapping her in his arms. "Oh Rose," he says. "I'll take care of you." He gives her a smile that looks forced, and leaves before she can say anything.

She waits for a few minutes before returning to the stage. This time, she tries to sing without thinking about what the lyrics mean.

Maids are sweeping the floors and collecting all the abandoned red solo cups when Rosaline finally comes out of her dressing room and makes her way to the front door. Outside, she hears something rustle in the bushes, but she assumes it's only a drunken fool who couldn't make it home.

Then she feels the smooth blade assault her neck, warm blood immediately seeping into her dress. Her legs give out quickly, and she is left twitching on the ground, losing consciousness.

She smiles, a feeling of relief washing over her. He did, after all, keep his promise. He took care of her.


End file.
